The Amazing Son in Law The Charismatic Charlie Wade

“Holy hell!” The man’s fingers trembled, poised dangerously close to the trigger.

He was a tempest in human form.

Bouncing within a three-meter radius, he muttered darkly. “Ending this bastard now. Instantly! Instantly!”

A sly wink rallied his followers, who promptly sealed the goose shop’s fate.

With the door secured, the man’s gun zeroed in on Charlie’s brow, chilling intent in his voice, “Chinese love

tempting gun barrels. I’ve put down many like you. One more won’t change a thing. Any final words, speak them

now.”

“Final words?” Charlie jeered, disdain dripping from his words. “You’re a farce, not a threat.”

He rapped the table with a smirk. “Jordan, my meal. Chop chop!”

Jordan rushed from the kitchen, clutching a bowl of roast goose rice, his words a jumble. “Mr. Wade… Here’s your

rice…”

In one Swift motion, the black man sent the entire meal scattering, “You’re thinking of a feast at death’s door?!” he

thundered.

He swung his weapon towards the fallen bowl, squeezing the trigger. The gunshot rang out, shattering the plastic

container and sending Jordan into a quaking fit.

Hogan, on the sidelines, remained unfazed. He was aware that these men were nothing more than insignificant

specks compared to Charlie.

The Burning Angel?

A sideshow compared to him.

The Joules family, a powerful dynasty in New York, had no influence as Charlie mercilessly shot Patrick Joules right in

front of them.

Who in the Joules clan would dare oppose him? When Charlie asked Patrick’s father, grandfather, and great-

grandfather Joules whether they were convinced that he killed Patrick, who would dare to say no?

Now, a few gang members who knew nothing about the world dared to jump in front of Jagoan with guns, and

Jagoan would never let them have an easy time.

The leader locked eyes with Jagoan, who showed no fear. Instead, he turned to Jordan and said, “Bring me another

bowl. This swill’s a waste. I’ll make him kneel like a dog, licking every grain off the floor.”

The man’s composure crumbled. He’d pulled the trigger, yet Jagoan remained unfazed. Fear tinged the edges of his

bravado, tangled with his murderous intent.

He gaped wide, lips flapping without sound. With a furious grit of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man! Since you court

death, I’ll deliver you to God!”

He hammered the trigger!

Jordan squeezed his eyes shut, while the black man’s companions retreated a few steps. They saw their boss’s

murderous intent. At this point, revulsion painted their faces, anticipating the spray of blood to come.

Just as they thought Jagoan was about to be shot, the black man’s eyes widened.

Though he struggled to pull the trigger, he muttered, “What’s happening… Why can’t I… Why can’t I pull the

trigger…”

Jagoan’s smile held steady. He’d only exerted a minuscule amount of energy, enough to render his opponent utterly

defenseless. The black man’s hand had lost all strength, unable to squeeze even a

grain of rice.

The black man, bewildered, still had power in his arm, yet his fingers were rebellious. In his panic, Jagoan reached

out and wrenched the gun free.

He calmly and confidently inspected the sleek Italian M9 pistol, “If God wants to see me, he’ll have to come to me,

not the other way around.”

“Damn!” The four black-clad men behind him scrambled, drawing pistols in their panic, preparing to fire at Jagoan.

Jagoan sneered, seizing the black man’s wrist and swinging him like a baseball bat!

Before the four could draw their weapons, a massive, dark force slammed into them from the side. Before they

could react, they were sprawled on the ground.

In an instant, five bodies lay wailing in the corner.

The man who was tossed suffered the most. His right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs, and leg bones

shattered. Countless fractures crisscrossed his body.

Even though the other four didn’t sustain as severe injuries, the sudden and powerful impact felt like a high-speed

car crash.

Bruised and battered, they lay groaning.

They’d never imagined an ordinary person could wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that they’d

encountered a master. Perhaps this was a legendary Kung Fu master.

Unfazed, Jagoan approached the five, his expression unreadable.

They shrank back, their refuge in the corner now a prison.

The man who had once been the tough guy had been beaten half to death already, and now all traces of his former

fierceness had vanished. His face was etched with fear and unease.

Jagoan stared at him and delivered a resounding slap across his face.

The sharp crack reverberated throughout the roast goose shop.

As the man’s cheeks rapidly swelled, Jagoan offered a wry smile, “The underworld, huh? And the Burning Angels…

Who came up with such a ridiculous name? Look at that grizzled mug of yours—does it have anything to do with

angels?”

The pain in the man’s cheek was explosive, but all he could do now was cry and plead with Jagoan. “I’m sorry, truly

sorry. I had no idea you knew kung fu, please, let us go, we’ll never return here!”

Jagoan furrowed his brow and delivered another stinging slap.

The crisp sound grated on the eardrums of the four people nearby.

After Jagoan’s second slap, he grinned and inquired, “Wasn’t it all about being ruthless just a moment ago? You held

that gun like a real tough guy, ready to jump and fire. Why did you soften up so quickly?”

Despite being nearly knocked unconscious by the relentless blows, the intense pain kept the man’s mind sharp. He

realized he had encountered a formidable opponent and had no one to back him up. So, he resorted to pleading in

a hushed tone.

With this in mind, he cried out, “Sir, I was truly in the wrong… I grew up in poverty. My father abandoned my

pregnant mother and left. She had to work three jobs to support us. I was raised by a laborer and received no

education. I’ve been associated with gangs since I was a child. I implore you, spare my life for my mother’s sake…”

Jagoan smiled and asked, “So your routine now is to feign weakness and beg for mercy, then gather more people

to help you when you’re out, right?”

The man hastily responded, “No, no! Absolutely not! I swear to God!”

Jagoan delivered another resounding slap and inquired in a cold voice, “Why do you never mention God, but you

still use a gun to extort protection money? With a gun, you’re a Burning Angel; without one, you’re God’s lamb. So,

do you believe in God or guns?”

“I… I…” The man was stumped by Jagoan’s questioning and didn’t know how to respond. He could only muster the

courage to say, “I… I believe in God…”

Jagoan fired back, “Then do you think God can save you today?”

The man found himself in an ever-deepening pool of fear. He was trapped, unsure of what words would secure his

safety. If he claimed he could survive, Jagoan might cruelly deny it and end his life with a gunshot. On the other

hand, if he admitted he couldn’t survive, Jagoan could still find a way to twist his words and deliver the fatal blow. It

was a grim situation, with death looming no matter which way he turned.

Desperation washed over him, and he implored Jagoan, his voice trembling, “Brother, please spare my life, I… I

don’t want to die… I promise I’ll never get mixed up with a gang again, I swear!”

Jagoan’s lips curved into a slight smile as he observed the man’s extreme terror. He calmly remarked, “Survival

isn’t about chances. It’s about seizing control.”

Upon hearing this, the man swiftly broke into tears and declared, “I’m ready to take control, I’ll absolutely do it!”

Jagoan nodded decisively, and he deftly removed the magazine from the pistol. With a stern look, he extended the

magazine towards the man and uttered a grim command, “You seem to relish the idea of

serving up a taste of bullets to others, don’t you? Well, now’s your chance. Consume every single bullet from this

magazine! I’m cautioning you, ingest every last one, and leave none behind! If any bullets remain, I’ll personally

make sure they find their way into you!”

About The Charismatic Charlie Wade -